


Two Less Lonely Satellites

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Astronaut Castiel (Supernatural), Astronaut Dean Winchester, Astronauts, Coworkers - Freeform, Dean Takes His Job Very Seriously, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Outer Space, Sam Winchester is So Done, They're Also Both Incredibly Klumzy, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Luckily, all of the blood that should be in Cas’s feet pools in his face as is due to the whole zero-gravity thing, so Dean can’t tell he’s blushing.“Amazing, huh?”Cas angles his head. Dean’s ear-to-ear grin gathers the cluster of stars on his cheeks into two puffy pockets beneath his emerald green eyes.“Amazing,” Cas echoes, but only finds his eyes on Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66
Collections: WTF Philippines Relief 2020





	Two Less Lonely Satellites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betheflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/gifts).



> So I did a lot of research for this one - which is initially why I put off writing it for so long. Reading NASA transcripts is actually a lot more entertaining than you'd think. There's a lot of relentless flirting between mission control and the astronauts and random banter. Thanks to betheflame for pushing me to get this done! I was happy to help contribute to a good cause. <3
> 
> Title courtesy of ralsbacket because I'm actually shit at coming up with titles.

_“This is Apollo/Saturn Launch Control agent Sam Winchester reporting at T-1 hour, 4 minutes and counting. We are GO on the countdown for the Apollo 18 Lunar Mission. Commander Castiel Novak and command module pilot Dean Winchester are in the spacecraft running routine maintenance, though all the propellants look good at this time. We’re still aiming for our planned lift-off at 12:00pm Eastern daylight time.”_

“What’s the update on getting more red meat onto the ship?” Dean asks, hovering over Cas with one hand on his back, the other on his tortilla cheeseburger. 

“ _I’m honestly impressed at how much you’re enjoying space_ ,” Sam remarks with a scoff, “ _I thought you’d drop out of training when you got wind of the strict no alcohol policy.”_

“I’m afraid he likes space a little _too_ much,” Cas says, glancing up at Dean as he grabs a loose piece of cheddar floating overhead to put back in his mouth. “He says the facilities vacuum is like an astronaut’s Magic Fingers if you’re not careful.”

“Or a little _too_ careful,” Dean interjects with a smirk.

Sam groans. “ _That’s a mental picture I could’ve done without, Commander.”_

“It’s _space,_ Sammy,” Dean emphasizes, clicking his tongue around the last bite of his burger. “Besides, I’ve lived on burgers most of my life, anyway.”

_“Seriously, man, back away from the mic. I can hear you crunching on the cartilage in that beef.”_

“Oh yeah, I forgot, I’m triggering his veganism.”

Cas can practically hear Sam roll his eyes. _“I’m not—it’s called pollotarianism.”_

“What’s pollotarianism?” Cas asks.

“Basically, he’s all about saving the animals with the exception of chickens,” Dean replies. “Oh and fish, he’s pro-fish murder, too.”

 _“That’s not—can you just give me a visual?”_ Sam groans.

Dean wipes his mouth before moving to the other end of the ship for his monocular. He adjusts the frame until he can see a clear view of the earth beneath them. “A thin layer of clouds passes through Queensland, but otherwise we’ve got a clear view of Australia. Taiwan’s visible too. Hong Kong looks like a fucking Christmas tree. Bangladesh, south to Thailand all the way to Singapore is covered by a thicker layer of clouds. It looks like they’re moving east towards the Philippines.” Dean pauses, eye crinkling against the monocular. “Bet you could find some good chickens there.” 

_“Copy,”_ Sam says with an exasperated sigh. 

“Come look at this, Cas,” Dean urges.

“Dean, I’m steering the ship,” Cas replies, muting the mic, “not to mention stabilizing the test conductor.”

“Where’s the ship gonna go?— _It’s space_. C’mere.”

Cas shrugs before unbuckling the strap keeping him from floating off. Using the handlebars set up along the walls of the ship to steady himself, he uses his weight to propel himself forward—like a kid on playground monkey bars. Their fingers brush as Dean hands him the monocular. Luckily, all of the blood that should be in Cas’s feet pools in his face as is due to the whole zero-gravity thing, so Dean can’t tell he’s blushing.

“Amazing, huh?”

Cas angles his head. Dean’s ear-to-ear grin gathers the cluster of stars on his cheeks into two puffy pockets beneath his emerald green eyes.

From serving in the air force, project managing space flight hardware, and even a brief stint as an on-call medic, Dean’s beyond qualified to pilot a spacecraft—even if his colleagues from the aviation unit describe him as carefree and a bit foolhardy. He’s the kind of guy that would take the spacecraft for a joyride around the sun if they weren’t closely monitored.

Despite this, it’s the simple things that stop Dean in his restless tracks. Of course, a view 200 miles from the Earth’s surface is anything but simple, and nothing short of amazing. It’s not a view Cas appreciates as often as he should, given this is his third mission. The lights from around the world are like their own constellations, scattered across miles of lush green plateau. There’s a faint blue ring around the earth from where the sun’s casting, giving the mountains and clouds an almost three-dimensional view, like a Lovepop card. Then of course there’s the stars surrounding the ship like millions of raindrops frozen in time. 

“Amazing,” Cas echoes, but only finds his eyes on Dean. Dean’s eyes fall to Cas’s lips.

Cas has known Dean for about a year now to know he's got this magnetic field around him. It's like he's a black hole and Cas is always caught in his orbit.

“ _Apollo, do you copy?”_

Cas bites down on his lip a little too hard. He also manages to bump into one of the stability bars on his way back to the comms, sending a shooting pain up his shoulder. “Agh, yeah,” he moans, reaching out to unmute Sam, “yeah, Houston, I’m here, what’s up?” 

“ _Can you send us a photo of what you’re seeing?”_ It’s Bobby Singer’s voice now, Sam’s boss. He was once up here too; back during Apollo 10.

Dean’s at the other end of the station before Cas can reply, hitting more buttons. “Done,” he says, “The Manned Space Flight Network’s down in Houston so they’ve been sent to Woomera in black and white. It’ll be converted to color when Houston goes back online.”

Bobby’s a transplant from South Dakota, just like the ‘y’ he adds to “ _Bey-utiful”_ in response to Dean. “ _Goddamn, Hong Kong looks like a fuckin’ Christmas tree.”_

“That’s what I said,” Dean scoffs before turning his attention back to Cas. “Houston, I have a wounded Commander to mend. We’ll check in again in T-30.”

 _“Is everything okay?”_ Bobby asks.

“Oh yeah, just a little run-in with a handlebar,” Dean replies.

“ _Those handlebars will snag ya.”_

“Thanks, Bobby,” Cas grunts as he clutches his shoulder.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean repeats, “Apollo, over and out.”

“ _Launch control, over and out.”_

“Alright, stay right there, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit,” Dean instructs.

Cas rolls his eyes. “Really, Dean? Where am I gonna go?—‘ _It’s space’_ ,” he mocks.

Dean chuckles before heading for the sleeping quarters. They decided to keep the first aid kid there since it’s more common they injure themselves hitting their heads on the support beam directly above their cots. It's happened so often to Dean, it became Cas’s morning alarm.

“Seriously, you had, like, eight feet between me and the comms,” Dean says, applying saline over Cas’s newly exposed shoulder.

“The support beam is less than that,” Cas retorts, biting his swollen lip as Dean presses a Band-Aid into him.

“Touché,” Dean laughs, “does that hurt? Your lip?”

Cas shakes his head as he quite literally grins and bears the pain of sucking it into his mouth.

Dean’s hand abandons Cas’s shoulder and moves as if on instinct to Cas’s chin, tugging with his thumb, releasing Cas’s grip on his bottom lip.

“Please, you can't fool the expert of hiding pain," Dean says, grabbing a fresh cotton ball. He makes the mistake of letting go of it to uncap the bottle of saline again with both hands. He turns back, searching beneath him before he realizes.

Cas smiles, which probably isn’t good for his lip, but he doesn’t care. “You’re not used to the whole space thing yet, huh?”

Dean shakes his head before moving in to dab Cas’s lip with his new cotton ball. “It’s all different,” he admits. “I thought it’d feel like flying—like that peaceful, easy feeling The Eagles were singing about. The view’s even more breath-taking from up here. I actually think the food’s pretty good too—even if half of it is powdered Lunchables. But I…” Dean pauses to scoff, “Is it weird that I miss Earth?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas replies, “it’s the only home we’ve ever known.”

“I miss Sam,” Dean continues, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smirk. “And Bobby. Even if he’s a grunt sometimes.”

Cas nods appreciatively. “I miss my cat.” 

“I miss my dog,” Dean rejoins, “his name’s Miracle. He’s a support dog.”

“Huh.” Cas takes Dean in. Like, really takes him in. 

He can tell that makes Dean nervous because he returns his focus to the used cotton ball, slipping it into a Ziploc he tucks back into the kit. “What?” he asks without looking at Cas.

“Nothing,” Cas says, “I’m just… surprised, I guess. You seem so carefree all the time. Hearing you talk about everything makes you seem more… I don’t know—”

“Fallible?”

“Genuine,” Cas corrects, smiling again. 

Dean’s head shoots back up. They'd just be staring at each other again, if not for Dean pushing forward. He ends up floating behind Cas, bumping his head on one of the handlebars.

“’Those handlebars will snag ya’,” Cas laughs, echoing Bobby’s words.

Dean pushes himself up quickly, doing his best to casually lean against it. “I-I’m good. I was just… testing the sturdiness.”

Pushing himself up, Cas moves until he’s pinning Dean against the wall and it’s Dean’s turn to bite his lip. With one hand, he steadies himself on the handlebar, the other on Dean’s face. He leans forward—this time successfully closing the gap between them.

“ _Apollo, do you copy?”_

Dean’s the first to break away from the constellations they’re mapping into each other’s tongues, reaching between them and the knee Cas has between Dean’s legs to turn on the mic. “Houston, I copy, but trust me, Sammy, you won’t want a transcription of this.”


End file.
